LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



1^ 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



mm' 



TpB WiAQ^lihEf) 



■AND OTHER POEMS 



"KATE KENDALL" "[ly^JUuX^ . 
CLARA MARCELLE GREENE 




PORTLAND, MAINE 

BROWN THURSTON & COMPANY 

1890 



\ 



'^ 



V^ 



"76 n 






Copyrighted 1889 

BY 
(^LARA MARCELLE GREENE. 



The iismod-Ean feat is mlriE 

Td spin my sand-hills into t-wlne, 

-EMERSON. 



CONTENTS 



The Magdalen, ..... 9 

Night unto Night, . . . . -14 

A Legend of El Belka, . . . . 15 

At Parting, . . . . -19 

Whittier, ...... 22 

Injunction, . . . . . .24 

Penetralia, ...... 25 

The Difference, . . . -27 

Question — Answer, .... 29 

"Sweet Bells Jangled out of tune," . . 31 

Hannah Holliday, . ■ . . • 33 

The Curse of Conemaugh, . . . -37 

A Vision of Sound, .... 50 

Possession, . . . . . • S^ 

A Wild Rose, ..... 55 

Covenants, . . . . . • S6 

Ab Initio — Ad Finem, .... 59 

A La Mode, . . . . . -63 

Spirits in Prison, ..... 68 

The Legend of the Bell, . . . -70 

The Meadow Brook, . . . . 75 



CONTENTS. 



Marah, ....... 76| 

Wine on the Lees, . . . . 8i 

Half-way, . . . . . -83 

Worship, ...... 84 

My Lady, the Sands, and I, . , . .90 

To THE End, ..... 92 

Visions, . . . . . . -94 

Ashes of Roses, ..... 95 

With a Rose, . . . . . .98 

Beautiful Dream, ..... 99 

Rest, ....... 100 

Lost Art, ...... 102 

Foreshadowing, . . t . . 105 

Silence, ...... 108 

Destiny, ....... 109 

Midsummer Morn, . . . . . iii 

Revelation, . . . . . • "3 

Thy Fate is Seeking Thee, . . . 115 

Miserere, . . . . . .118 

A Story of the North Coast, . . . 120 
On a Picture of the Sea Breaking on a Des- 
olate Shore, ..... 125 

Before the Wedding, . . . . .127 



THE MAGDALEN 



THE MAGDALEN. 



7\r\ Y beautiful lilies down under the snow, 
v2) Hasten not, waken slow 

From your dreaming ! for O, 
I dread the bright summer with gossamer wings 
Which over your brows a diadem fiings 
Of perfumed white petals, as pure as is meet, 
While low at your feet, darlings, low at your feet 
This heart will be lying ! 
Would God it were dying 
And sleeping in peace with you under the snow ! 

2 



10 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Yet, O beautiful things, but a summer ago, 

Listen low, listen low ! 

You remember 1 know 
Each morning how gaily I lifted you up 
And dared to look into each virginal cup 
Face to face with your pureness ; I flung back as pure 
A look as you gave me — God ! can I endure ! 

My step was the lightest. 

My soul was the whitest, 
And life was on wings but a summer ago. 

But my pathway o'er-ran with the green myrtle vine 

So tender it seemed 

I never had dreamed 
It would tangle and leave me so cruelly bound, — 
That a hand from caressing so quickly could wound 
With a stab to the heart. Oh ! that I had died 
When a pure little child, and slept cold at the side 

Of my sweet young dead mother 

Whose love and no other 
Would bear on her bosom such anguish as mine ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. H 

sleep, with two hands crossing over a breast ! 

The garment I covet 

A white shroud — above it 
A green quilt all daisy-starred — no ! such as I 
Have no name cut in marble to tell where they lie. 

1 flee like a hunted thing — where can I hide ? 
Heaven's mercy ! — I see now — there runs a dark tide, 

Yes ! yes ! the black river, 
For sorrows are never 
So wild but it hushes and lulls them to rest ! 

And oh ! my sweet darlings down under the snow, 

When you wake you will know, 

And will miss me, dears, so. 
By the grasses untrod, and the paths unimpressed, 
By the sparrows unfed, by my dog uncaressed. 
By the hush of the still air which erst and ere-while 
Was liquid with laughter and song without guile. 

On the black flowing river 

The sunlight will shiver. 
And then you will know, darlings, Oh, you will know ! 



12 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Life, life, is thy bitterness ever redressed ? 

Is there any Heaven ? 

Are sins ever forgiven ? 
Comes white in the next world what turned black in this ? 
Hush, heart ! thou shalt know e'er day dawns all that is. 
O river, be kind, though thy bosom be cold, 
Let me sleep well and long in thy passionless hold. 

From Tantalus fly not ! 

O Lethe, deny not 
Thy boon of oblivion, — rest, give me rest ! 

And now, while the madness is gathering stark, 

Do thou, my soul, hark ! 

If down through the dark 
God's mercy may whisper at last, and so late, 
That I go not unshrived and accursed to my fate. 
One last moment, one, my poor eyes from the ground 
Uplift them to heaven, awaiting that sound. 

Will no angel speak 

This death-spell to break .-' 
Still — still as the srave — like the grave all is dark ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 13 

Are they weeping, those lilies down under the snow ? 

I can hear them, I know, 

And I love them, but oh ! 
Mine eyes are as dry as the dust without rain, 
And the drouth of my heart scorches up in my brain. 
My sight swims in blackness — strange frenzy I feel, 
I swoon — the sky wavers — my racked senses reel ! 

Is this mortal immortal ? 

O death, swing thy portal 
Wide, wide to receive me ! — Christ pity me — so ! 




14 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



NIGHT UNTO NIGHT. 



T^AY unto day uttereth speech ; 

Night unto night 
Showeth new knowledge ; the golden reach 
Of dawns, succeeding each unto each, 

Brings gracious Light, 
Aye, night unto night new knowledge shows ; 

At set of Sun 
Man lies in wonderful repose, 

Heart still and labor done ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 15 



A LEGEND OF EL BELKA. 



V I /wo travelers met on the burning sand 
1 Of a desert that stretched their worlds between , 
Abroad and afar upon either hand 

No life on the vast gray plain was seen, 
Save these two only, these fainting two, 

The one with hunger and one with thirst ; 
And the camels kneeling as if they too 

Must die with the heat of the day accursed. 

And these were aliens, and both from far, 
Far countries where once led pleasant lines ; 

And both were weary, as pilgrims are 

Who vainly journey toward phantom shrines. 

With hands outreaching, when stepped they down, 
Each unto each the travelers cried, 



16 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

" Unto thee be peace ! " " God is great alone ! " 
While the wonted embrace was not denied. 

Spake one, " I hunger, I have no meat 

Since the last manzil." " Alas, my brother, 
I have only these dates thou canst not eat, 

And a few pomegranates," replied the other, 
" But I am athirst, and my fever dreams 

Of the cooling fountains I never find ; 
I hear, and fancy I catch far gleams, — 

It is only mirage, and the sound of the wind.' 

The first then answered, " Thy soul to stay 

Oh, that I had wine of En Gedi ! 
This water is all I have left today, 

But of such as I have give I unto thee." 
" Oh, blessed art thou ! Thy flagon give 

To my longing lips that shall prove the rest ; 
While my few pomegranates take thou and live. 

So shall we in blessing be doubly blest ! " 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 17 

One drained the flagon, — unto such need 

It was nectar of grapes, and the soul grew strong ; 
While the fruits were ambrosia to one, indeed. 

Whose fast had been rigid, and stern and long. 
Then rest came on them, that sweet content 

Which followeth only after pain ; 
The camels sighed in an ease unblent 

With fear of goad or of rider's rein. 

And the pilgrims communed with gentle thought 

Of the wonderful wandering way they came ; 
While the hours stood still, and the ,time was not, 

And the world was only an empty name. 
A heavenly radiance spanned the night. 

Gold harps descending angels rang, 
With bending foreheads all sweet and white, 

And the morning stars together sang. 

But when the sun, in his wrathful ire. 

Smote through the gray of the morning haze, 

3 



18 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Athwart the desert with lance of fire, 
These two were far upon opposite ways. 

And though no backward glance was flung, 
In Arab speech one softly said, 
" ' Twas there the bells of heaven were rung ! " 
And one, " On manna I there was fed ! " 

Who traverse El Belka's waste today 

Find ever one cool unfailing spring 
Within an oasis, kept green alway, 

In the wonderous form of an angel's wing ! 
Read I this tradition a score of times, 

A score of times its meaning sought ; 
It weaveth itself between the rhymes, 

So shalt thou find it — or find it not ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



19 



AT PARTING. 



1 put my flower of song into thy hand 
And turn my eyes away, 
And turn my life from WaxQ.— riilUp Boxirhe Marston. 

T TAKE, O poet mine, within my hand, 
My hand that hath been empty over long, 
I take from thee thy tender flower of song ; 
This deep, swift rapture — dare I understand ? 
Oh ! turn thou not away 

Thine eyes where no lights shine, 
Till thou hast answered mine 
Their eager question, is it aye and aye ? 

These passionate pink petals, fold on fold, 
All tremulous — would they to me disclose 
Their secret my quick heart divining knows. 

The diamond dew of love in cup of gold ? 



20 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Turn not thine eyes away, 

Till mine have drank from thine 
The draught that is divine, 

And, satisfied, shall thirst no more for aye. 

Until we met upon a foreign strand 

My life was barren and m}' heart was old. 
My skies were wintry and my days were cold, 
And hopelessly afar lay summerland. 
Oh ! turn thou not away, 
Till I can understand 
The radiance that o'erspanned. 
And brought the dawning of diviner day. 

There draweth near the lonely eventide, 
When lowlier fall the voices of the glad, 
And sadder grow the souls that must be sad ; 
The sea of change outlieth dark and wide ; 
I may not bid thee stay. 

What so malign as fate, 
When two are met too late, 
And recognize — and one must turn away } 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Yet when thou goest forth to thy dark years, 
And I walk desolate upon the strand, 
Thy precious flower of song within my hand, 
Shall fill my heart with rapture and with tears ; 
While underbreath I say 

"His love — his love is mine, 
Unto no other shrine 
His soul from mine shall ever turn away." 

And if some day it shall be mine to stand 
And with my brimming eyes essay to trace 
The way love looked upon thy marble face. 
Thy flower of song will be within my hand : 
None there shall say me nay : 
I hold the flower in sign. 
The dead will then be mine, 
Nor ever more from my life turn away. 



21 



22 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



WHIT TIER. 



@/i 



A TRIBUTE. 
I 

MAN of prophecy was there, who should 

Unto his waiting people come apace, 

Strong in the likeness of the " Great Stone Face,"* 
And so among them work in gracious mood, 
Dispelling evil and dispensing good, 

That all the valley from a wilding place 

Redeemed should lie in fair and smiling grace. 
A grave-eyed boy, whose heart was wont to brood 
In seriousness the ancient legend o'er. 

To manhood grew, and age ; content to be 



* The nucleus of tliis poem was found in Hawthorne's " Legend of the Great 
Stone Face." 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 23 

A patient worker that great face before, 

And worshipful with all expectancy ; 
Till men cried suddenly — " Forevermore 

Thou hast the likeness, thou ! Lo, thou art he ! " 

II 

Indwelling with thy soul this wilderness, 
In thine own cool and quiet latitudes, 
Whose solemn vastness breathes beatitudes 

On such as thou, betimes thou felt the stress 

Of mortal need, and wrought for wrong's redress ; 
Unfolding prophecy which o'er us broods 
Like smothered thunder, with sweet interludes 

Of thine own singing. While in patientness 
The coming good thou waitedst, looking on 
The Great Face Infinite, thy zeal o'er-ran 

At sobs of woe in life's deep undertone, 

And working thou hast watched, till all men can 

His likeness trace in grandeur on thine own, 
And cry, " Beloved bard, thou art the man ! " 



24 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



INJUNCTION. 



w 



ALK thy way greatly. So do thou endure 
Thy small, thy narrow, dwarfed and cankered life, 
That soothing patience shall be half the cure 
For ills that lesser souls keep sore with strife. 

Be thou thyself. So strongly, grandly bear 
Thee, on what seems thy hard, mistaken road, 

That thou shalt breathe heaven's clearest upper air, 
And so forget thy feet that meet the clod. 

Wouldst see thyself to godlike stature grown ? 

Feed full thy soul on strong humility ; 
Then shalt thou on thy sordid lot look down. 

Make thou thy life — nor let thy life make thee ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 25 



PENETRALIA. 



W 



E are drifting in dreamland, I and thou, 
Thou and I on a golden tide, 
With keel of silver and carven prow, 
And lilies floating on either side. 

There are banks of myrtle and lotus flowers, 
Violet odors and slumberous musk ; 

Grapes empurpling lush green bowers. 

And great pomegranates, glowing and dusk. 

There are waving branches of stately trees, 
And amber dates in orchards of palm ; 

There are dripping combs of honey of bees, 
And the wild fawn feeding without alarm. 

Here drifting in dreamland, on we float, 
Thy soul and mine for one blissful hour ; 

4 



26 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

The bulbul 'plaining her low love-note, 
The soft wind kissing the passion-flower. 

And there groweth the wonder how this land 
On whose still waters our souls lie basking, 

Whose pastures green upon either hand 
Invite our feet, is ours for the asking. 

Oh ! the nectarous fruitage, the rich red wine, 
All, all are free for the lip to prove ; 

We may gather at will, in this land divine. 
Her rose of Sharon, the rose of love. 

Nepenthe hushes our life of care. 

It is drowned and gone like a tale that is told ; 
We are radiant spirits in realms all fair, 

Gliding for aye over sands of gold. 

While blue over all is the wondrous heaven, 
Fair clouds caressing the far-off skies ; 

I turn, and lo, — is the secret given 
Of this dream-vision within thine eyes ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE DIFFERENCE. 



H ! man may conjure, and art may dream, 
(©' And science travail in tedious pain, 
To bring fortli haply some Titan scheme 

For girding oceans with under-chain ; 

For linking continents j some strange keel 
That, scorning the waters will cleave the air ; 

For bracing mountains with stays of steel, 
Or spanning rivers aloft and fair. 

And after it all he never is done ! 

He lays his burden down with a sigh ; 
Another must finish what is begun, 

His night is come and his day gone by. 



28 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER ^OEMS. 

But a little maid, sitting beside a stream, 
In the balm of a summer afternoon, 

Watching the glancing minnows gleam, 
Humming a rhyme to a low love-tune, — 

Just one little maid, without rule or plan. 
Her feet a-lave, and her hair wind-curled. 

Will build in an hour, an arc whose span 

Is high as the heavens, and wide as the world ! 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



29 



QUESTION— ANSWER. 



WINTER. 

rnHE sun is waning wan and old ; 
1 The days are brief and gray and cold ; 
We shiver in their garment's fold. 



A homeless dog, with dismal bark, 
Bemoaneth twilight chill and dark, 
The shrouded hills lie white and stark. 

Wild sweep the snows about the clod, 
The stubble soughs above the sod ; 
The skies are blasting. Where is God ? 



30 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

SPRING. 
71 FLOOD of light, a deep-drawn breath, 
(^ That through the being shuddereth, 

With rapturous coming back from death. 

A flash of song, a glint of wings, 
The starting of a thousand springs, 
A thousand runnel murmurings : 

Life thrills in the awakened clod, 

The cowslips' breath, — the crocus' nod. 

The stir of nestlings, — here is God. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 31 



"-SWEET BELLS JANGLED OUT OF TUNE. 

[Ophelia in Hamlet.] 



7] DOWN the soft meadow, the green growing meadow, 
2) There floweth a river its brown banks between ; 
Where the willows bend over in love with their shadow 
And the ripples laugh lightly in dimpling sheen. 

There the brown bee doth hover the red lilies over, 
And softly doth settle at last in their deeps ; 

Above the broad daisies the butterfly rover 
Hesitates, dallies and swings and sleeps. 

There the sparrow's nest softly the south winds discover. 
And that wonderful sky is the sky of June ; 

The myrtle with blue is blossoming over, 
And life and the world are all in tune. 



)2 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Oh, the dimpling and smiling of that flowing river, 
And oh, the green meadow so warm in the sun ! 
The reeds, the lush grasses with joyance a-quiver, 
And oh, the sweet idyl one summer begun ! 

Now why, and for what, the brown river still floweth. 
And what though the sky be of March or of June, 

And why or for what the south wind she bloweth, 
When life and the world are all out of tune, 

God knoweth : since love fled the mead and the river, 
Since two walk nevermore side by side ; 

Since the sedge is brown, and the alders shiver, 
And hearts are sundered so wide, so wide ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 33 



HANNAH HOLLIDAY. 



^RETTY Hannah Holliday, 
® Going to the fair, 
With an aureole of gold 

' Round her shinng hair; 
Clothed upon with innocence, 
Sweetest maiden there ! 

Gallant young Fitzpatrick, 
In his jaunting-car, 

Drew his rein, enchanted. 
As men sometimes are : 
" Pretty Hannah Holliday, 
Are ye walking far ? 

5 



34 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

" ' Tis good three miles to Kanturk, 
Ye'll not refuse to ride ? 
Me car is better balanced 

With one on either side." 
How envied he the kerchief 
Around her fair neck tied ! 

Pretty Hannah Holliday 

Shook her shining head, 
While a timid glance at him 

From her eyes she sped \ 
With her red lips half a-smile, 
"I'll not ride," she said. 

Pleaded young Fitzpatrick then 

With a lover's guile, 
Still she shook her shining head 
With her lips a-smile : 
" Such a little way," she said, 
"It is not worth me while." 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

" Faith now, lift your bonny face, 

Ye're too modest far ; 
Where's the harm ? Sure many a lass, 

Well demeaned, would share 
With me her honest company. 

Riding to the fair." 

Pretty Hannah Holliday, 

Glancing up again, 
Eyes as full as they could be 

Of what hazards men, — 
" Sure, it's not meself will be 

Riding with ye then ! " 

Leaped he lightly to the ground ; 
" Mavourneen, here I swear. 
Me car shall carry two or none ! 

We'll walk to Kanturk fair, 
Or ride with me and marry me — 

Which will ye now ? Declare ! " 



35 



36 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Cried pretty Hannah Holliday, 
" What folly would ye do ? 
Your shoes would get all over dust ! " 
Then, blushing, faltered through, 
" May be we'd better both ride now, 
Since mine are dusty too ! " 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE CURSE OF CONEMAUGH. 



TT There nature's breast with anguish riven, 
Upheaved in mad appeal to heaven, 
Rock-rent and scarred, her wounds were healed, 
And by internal fires annealed. 
The marks of that convulsion strange, 
Are ragged peak and mountain range. 

And where the Alleghanies rise, 
In arrogant grandeur to the skies. 
In their embrace a city lay, 
Cradled and wrapped in calm alway. 
Rocked by confidence, kissed by peace. 
Waxing strong with the years' increase, 
Unforeboding, unvexed by fears. 



38 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Ran the round of her thrifty years. 
Above the town, in the lap of the hills, 
Fed by a thousand sliding rills, 
A lake of daily gathering strength, 
A baby Titan, lay at length ; 
By mountain arms encircled round, 
His brows with granite grimly bound. 
In breadth of area, depth of tide. 
No such place in the country wide ; 
No such reservoir brims and fills. 
As Conemaugh lake among the hills. 
A mile in width by three miles long, 
In depth a hundred good feet strong, 
A monster dam restrained it there, 
Upreared a hundred feet in air ; 
While dark and stern as old Cheops, 
Eternal towered the mountain tops. 
They spoke no word, they gave no sign ; 
Their faces wore a look benign, 
But in its ponderous granite sheath 
They silent held their blade of death. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 39 

Below, serene, the valley slept ; 

No tremor through her dreaming crept ; 

No shepherd ever in all his fold 

More tranquil lamb could guard and hold, 

Than Conemaugh vale which in their guild 

Those Appalachian monarchs held. 

So there, encircled safe about, 

Smiling, dell-dimpled in and out, 

The lovely vale of beauty lay. 

Till broke the dawn of a darker day ; 

When reeling clouds were drunk with rain, 

And staggering scowled above the plain ; 

While over the lake a cloud-wrack hung 

Muttering threats with a sullen tongue. 

Johnstown streets with rain were dull ; 
The Conemaugh river was running full. 
It rushed with a furious footstep by, 
Where furnaces glowed with a Cyclops' eye, 
From the iron works of Cambria town ; 
Whose mighty hammers, up and down, 



40 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Swung with stern relentless weight, 
As rises and falls the hand of fate. 

Darker and darker lowered the sky ; 
Swifter rushed the Conemaugh by. 
Still the unheeding town moved on 
Its even pace till day was done. 

O weary weaver, leave your loom ; 

A shuttle flieth whose name is Doom ! 

O fond, fond father, closer pressed, 

Strain your little one to your breast ! 

Worn mother, spare your child that blow, 

It will profit him nothing now. 

Sooth his sobbing all away, 

And forgive him while you may ; 

All reproaches will be done, 

When shall rise tomorrow's sun. 

Husbands, working with heart and will, 

Haste from bench and forge and wheel ; 

Never yet had you such need, 

Wife and babes to reach with speed. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER FOEMS. 41 

Close the ledger, accounts are done, 
Loss and gain are the same as one. 
O lover, turn to your love again ! 
Parting now is needless pain. 
In your strong arms' sheltering, 
Let her lips in kisses cling ; 
They will soon be blanched with woe, — 
Better death should find you so. 
While you vow in tender wise. 
Looking in her lifted eyes. 
Only death shall part you twain, 
He is charging down the plain ! 

— Still unheeding went the town 
Till the crash of doom came down. 

Up at the South Fork by the dam, 

Where rainbows dipped their orifiamme. 

When mists were wedded to the sun, 

And their own bridal veil had spun, 

Conemaugh lake rose full and fast ; 

The waste gates roared like a furnace blast. 
6 



42 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

" Down witli the levers ! Down ! Hard down ! " 
Shouted the keeper with a frown. 
The giant gates to the full flung wide, 
Through them roared the swirling tide. 

Scanning again the face of the lake, 
The keeper felt his strong heart quake. 
With foaming tongues, in fierce unrest, 
The waters were lapping the very crest 
Of the straining dam ; through the farther end 
Broke ominous tricklings. " Heaven now send 
His help to the town ! They may call me 'croak,' 
But there's that ahead that will prove no joke ! " 
Quoth he, as forth in the rain he strode, 
And eagerly scanned the downward road. 
Silent in saddle, a stern-browed man 
Sat a big bay horse ; his eyes o'er-ran 
That massive front with an anxious look ; 
Alarm from the other he flame-like took. 
"Quick — to the town !" The gateman cried, 
" Tell them to fly to the mountain side ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 43 

The dam is straining, she soon must go, 
Quick ! With the word to the town below. 
Say she is strained to her utmost power — 
Say she cannot hold out an hour ! " 

Instantly, as that cry was heard. 

Wheeled the horseman without a word. 

Cruelly deep in the maddened flank 

Of his fleet-foot bay his spurs he sank ; 

Those hoofs beneath the unwonted goad, 

Struck wild sparks from the flinty road. 

Again the gray old keeper turned 

To where the waste gates boiled and churned. 

Heavier down the mountain sides. 

And ever blacker, the storm-wrack slides ; 

Pausing a moment, as if in awe 

At the darkening face of Conemaugh. 

A flash ! The jagged lightning darts 
Athwart the cloud-wrack. See ! It parts — 
Dissolves — the gates of heaven are wide, 
And floods enrage the wrathful tide ! 



44 77/^ MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

A grinding strain, a gritting noise, 
The curling waters backward poise, — 
A leap ! The very mountains quail, 
And death goes crashing down the vale ! 

" God pity them all ! God pity the town ! " 
Groaned the keeper, while the tears ran down 
Unchecked, on his bronzed and rain-wet face, 
As he watched the wave in its awful race. 

Stung with anguish, wild with fright, 
The big bay horse with fearful might 
Was covering miles of townward road. 
Neck and neck with the bellowing flood. 

" Run ! Run for your lives to the hills ! " 
Shouted the rider. " Fly to the hills ! " 
As with foaming horse and gleaming eye, 
He rode like a maddened Mercury by. 

" To the hills ! For your very lives ! " That shout 
Like a blast of judgment thundered out; 
As through the streets, that awful day. 
Tore the hoofs of the flying bay. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 45 

And as the warning wildly rang, 
Men and women and children sprang 
In startled wonder, from porch and door. 

" 0-ho ! A maniac nothing more," 
They cried, and laughing in careless wise, 
They followed the figure with mocking eyes, 
As along the highway, and out of sight, 
Horse and rider pursued their flight. 
And often that ringing cry outshrills, 

" To the hills ! For your lives ! Fly, fly to the hills ! " 

The town was dazed : nor any knew 
Foaming steed or rider, who 
With tongue of fire, and eyes of flame, 
Vanished as swiftly as he came. 

Hark ! What means that gathering o'er 
Of a mighty wind — that rising roar — 
That deep portentous and rumbling sound 
Of an earthquake, threatening under ground 
With straining ears, and bated breath. 
They list that fearful whisper of death. 



46 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Mothers with eyes dilated stand, 
Instinctive seeking with either hand, 
Their frightened children's clinging palms 
And so repress their own alarms. 
With stern set lips men murmur, " God ! " 
When bursts that cry, " The flood ! the flood ! 

With front upreared, and spray beset 
Like a hideous coronet. 
Over the shuddering valley's breast 
That Python fiend with towering crest, 
And power and purpose in dire accord. 
Trampled and beat with his vengeful horde. 
Adown the vale, from side to side, 
Charged and thundered the awful tide. 
Black with fury, and swift as flame, 
On the murderous monster came. 
Roaring, hurling, hissing, crashing, 
Grinding, twisting, foaming, lashing. 
Mouthing, raging, seething, groaning — 
Oh ! the shrieking and the moaning, 



TFIE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 47 

When upon the astounded town, 
Smote the curse of Conemaugh down ! 
Oh ! the wild appeals to Heaven ! 
— Where is God, when wrath is given 
All his fierce and fiendish way ? 
Oh ! the questions that some day 
Must be answered these our hearts, 
When earth's darkness all departs, 
And we lift our eyes to see 
Lighted all the mystery ! 

Fleeing the hungry jaws of death, 
With scarlet nostrils and straining breath, 
Plunged the gallant and faithful steed, 
Bating no moment his desperate speed. 
So raced the rider, and rushed the wave, 
One mad to destroy — one wild to save. 

Vain, vain, the warning was all in vain ! 
That city laughed on the doomed plain. 
Till the blinding bolt of wrath was hurled, 
And smote her, shrieking, out of the world. 



48 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

The tireless rider turned and saw, 
With sickening soul, the scene of awe. 
A flashing moment of gaze intense. 
Of wild despair — of reeling sense, 
Then rather a less fate than a worse, 
Made last appeal to his failing horse ; 
Whose foam-flecked sides and gory flank 
On the river's brink upreared and shrank. 
" Quick ! My good steed, one stretch more ! 
Leap ! " And the race for life was o'er. 

O morn, how sad a sight you saw 
In the desolate face of Conemaugh. 
When broke the dawning gray and pale 
No life was left in the drowned vale. 
Only the turbulent river ran, 
Unchecked by the will or the works of man. 
Stars veiled their tender eyes, and fled 
The gaze of the stark and staring dead. 
— Only God could dare to know 
AH that dole and depth of woe. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 49 

Ah ! sweet Mercy, now draw near, 
Certes, your own field is here. 
Bring your angels, by what name 
Called so'er, it is the same. 
Pity weareth any guise, 
And her province world-wide lies. 
Bring the soothing voice and hand. 
Death and life to understand ; 
Dole of death and life despair, 
Dumb, appalling, everywhere. 
Gentle women, meek-faced ones. 
Minister with kneeling nuns ; 
Benedictine, Franciscan, 
Woe is woe, mankind is man ; 
Sins confessed, or unconfessed, 
God he knoweth all the rest. 
Nameless dead and nameless woe. 
All hereafter He will know, 
In that day when He shall roll 
The heavens together like a scroll, 
What recks it all, when all is done. 
Thousands a day, or one by one ? 
7 



50 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



A VISION OF SOUND. 



T^o moon was there, nor light of any star ! 
y Night dripped her poppies o'er life's woe and mirth, 
When heard I strains all silver-sweet, from far 

Dim reaches sweeping softly 'round the earth ; 
And my most lonely soul unto that sound 

Leaned listening, intent, if there might be 
One lost chord, haply, in its cadence found 

T' attune my heart to higher minstrelsy. 
When lo ! through space a vast dim bell there swung, 

Whose fine and full vibrations softly woke 
The far, faint echoes of the vanished years, 

As more and more remotely it was rung ; 
While on the shore of Memory there broke 

The lapsing waves of Passion, salt with tears ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 51 



POSSESSION. 



I 

T LOOK upon thy world, beloved, 

Thy world of lovers, friends and kin, and those acquaint 
With thy rare beauty, all a-near, lacking restraint, 

While I may not so much as draw thee near 
To lay this little fiow'ret at thy feet, 
Nor thee so much as most remotely greet, 
Alas, my sweet. 

For that my soul doth wholly worship thine ! 

The butterfly may poise upon thy sleeve. 

The south wind wanton with thy golden tress ; 

Soft praises daily greet, but do not grieve. 

Thy dog may touch thy hand — feel thy caress, 



52 , THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

All, all, the meanest and the noblest, homage pay, 
While I must be by half the world's width banned away, 

Lest my soul may. 
In some mad moment, haply speak to thine ! 

Did I not hunger, then, why I could feast 

By so much as thy tender smiles could satisfy ; 

Nor thirst, why then I might all freely drink 
With glance to glance from the clear fountain of thine eye; 

Were not a-cold, a-shiver, might draw nearer till 

1' the sunlight of thy presence I could bask at will, 
And linger still. 

But ah, beloved, I do starve and thirst and freeze ! 

And so I dwell afar ; and only fling 

O'er crested mountain tops my thoughts to thee ; 
And pray the west winds that they backward bring 

Some waft of thy fair weal or name to me. 
For ease of pain, I delve in earth's rich mines : my toils 

She meets in compensation with her lavish spoils, 
But all my soul recoils 
In scorn of treasure that is not for thee ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. &3 

II 

So looked I on thy world, beloved, 

So bridged the thousand leagues that did divide 
Till yesterday our lives, with thoughts denied 

All speech, save to these crags and bending skies. 
Now hush, my heart ! what is this that they say ? 

Dead ! — gone from earth ? — thy life flown yesterday ? 
Oh, where is my today, 

In Heaven or earth, since thou art wholly mine ! 

Mine — mine — mine only, through eternal years ! 

What matters now this little lapse of life ? 
The hunger, emptiness and burning tears, 

The stern denial, and the bitter strife ? 
Death can undo all bonds : and lately doth fulfill 
Love's longing in divine possession, which doth thrill. 

And all my soul now fill 
With an immortal rapture, and with tears. 



54 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Ill 

While thus I stand afar, beloved, 

I know they will enrobe thy beauteous clay 
In fairest vesture, and with flowers, and say 

" Could she but speak, she would like this or that, 
This so, or so shall be — she liked to wear 
In this way all her rippling gold of hair. 
So fair — so fair." 

Then weeping with hid faces turned away 

They two by two, unto the churchyard gray 
Will follow thee away. 

I feel, I know how these things all must be. 

Their day has darkened to a rayless night. 

My night has quivered thro' it's pain to golden day : 

They lose what they possessed thro' sense and sight, — 
My heritage now comes to me for aye and aye ! 

And while to earth their precious treasure they resign, 

I turn with outstretched arms to Heaven for mine, 
O joy divine ! 

Where love shall have its own, at last, at last ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 55 



A WILD ROSE. 



(2) 



ND so my little lass says you nay, 

You, with your title and high degree ? 
She's in love wi' the tollman's son ? Heyday ! 
And you in your anger come to me ? 

Well, an' if I shall ask her why. 

She will laugh me down in her merry scorn ; 
She knows no more than yon butterfly, 

Why or how it ever was born. 

So go you an' wed you a dame of the town, 
And leave my hedge rose to me still ; 

I'll swear you by book, an' I'll swear you by gown, 
But I'll never take oath on a maiden's will ! 



56 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



COVENANTS. 



" AND THE LORD SAID UNTO ABRAM. 
Uen. XHI: 14. 

> the Lord, my God, should say unto me, 

As to one in days of old. 
Even Abram, " Lift up thine eyes and see, 
Lift up thine eyes, behold ! 

And look from the small place where thou art 

To the northward and the east, 
Lo ! I will satisfy all thy heart, 

Thy goods shall be increased ; 

Aye, look to the southward and the west 

Afar, and on every hand. 
With all thou seest thou shalt be blest, 

Arise, walk through the land. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 57 

In all the length and breadth thereof, 

Behold and see — 'tis thine ! 
Thy feet shall move in a larger place, 

Thou shalt have corn and wine. 

Thy flocks and thy herds shall multiply, 

And be as the sands of the sea, 
Great riches and honor, thus give I 

And length of days to thee." 

If thus and thus spake my Lord to me, 

And showed me all the land 
Of mine inheritance, fair to see 

And smiling on every hand, 

I, too, could walk, as did he of old, 

With heart and courage high ; 
To possess with zeal inspired and bold 

My heritage so nigh. 

But ah, my soul, alas and alas ! 

How is it today with thee ? ; 

8 



58 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

What is the covenant that doth pass 
Between thy Lord and thee ? 

" The straitest gate shall thou enter in " — 

Stern, Lord, but I believe. 
"The narrowest path, with thorns therein " — 

I shrink — but, I believe. 
" Hunger, blindness and anguished fears " — 

My Lord, can I believe ? 
" Abnegation and bitter tears " — 

Dear Lord, must I believe ? 
" Forsaken of father, mother, friend " — 

I faint — but, I believe. 
" By faith alone to the very end " — 

I fall — but I believe ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 59 



AB INITIO — AD FINEM. 



rnwo children stood on a blackened wharf, 
1 Watching the ships at sea \ 
One resolute, brown-eyed, ruddy of face, 
One fair as fair could be. 

They leaned with arms on the slender rail, 

Intent, with their lips apart ; 
Grave looks in their widened, serious eyes, 

Grave questions in each young heart. 

Whither goes that ship away in the blue. 
Whence comes this over the bay ? 

Are men afraid when hurricanes come, 
And the masts are torn away ? 



60 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Is it very deep where the ships go down, 

Is it dark down under the sea? 
Is it cold ? Does it hurt when sailors drown ? 
And what can a mermaid be ? 

What kind of a thing is an albatross, 

And why do the sailors fear ? 
Has a shark such very strong teeth ? Do whales 

Fight hard when they feel the spear ? 

Are there jungles fierce with the eyes of beasts, 

And gleams of ivory tusk ? 
Are there lovely laces, and sandal wood, 

And jewels and odors of musk ? 

Are there caverns encrusted with gems and gold, 
Where the sapphire and ruby shine ? 

And diamonds, more than a ship could hold. 
In many a secret mine ? 

Does God know when fishers are out in storms. 
Does He see when the mothers cry ? 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. Gl 

Does He hear little children praying to Him, 
Does He care, 'way up in the sky ? 

The children watched till the golden shoes 

Of the sunset wandered back. 
Across the sheen of the purple sea 

In a widening, glittering track. 

Oh ! long they stood on the blackened wharf. 

As they questioned the heaving sea ; 
But never an answer came to them 

Of the fathomless mystery. 

Yet in the recesses of each young heart 

Was the same resolve to go 
Some day, with each other, in some great ship 

And these wonderful things to know. 

Some day to go over the great sea floors 

To the regions so blue and dim, 
To the radiant countries with golden shores, 

And — ever and aye with him ! 



62 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Some day to be captain, with bearded lip, 
Bold arm and a stalwart stride ; 

One voice to thunder his stern command. 
One tender and low for his bride. 

Thus one with the strong and resolute face. 

And one as the angels fair. 
Re-acting the old, old drama of life, 

With its castle mirage in air ! 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 63 



A LA MODE. 



I 

,NE loved her for her beauteous face, 
(g Oh, very fair was she ! 

With humid eyes, a lily's grace, 
And low and tenderly 

Her rare words fell, set slowly round 

With her reluctant smile ; 
He knew not if or sight or sound. 

Held most his heart in guile. 

The cross he gave she kissed, and wore 
Against her beating heart ; 

And inly promised nevermore 
From it, or him, to part. 



64 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

II 

One, silent, worshiped her afar, 

As he who looks above, 
And only sees in heaven one star 

Exalted by his love. 

For him she wore a circled ring, 
Unnamed and wordless sent ; 

She loved the shining, signal thing — 
Her heart knew what it meant. 

Ill 

One moved her through her very soul, 

She knew her counterpart ; 
With strong and masterful control 

Swayed he her woman's heart. 

Upon her white throat's tenderness, 

With passionate rubies set, 
A glittering chain, with his caress. 

Defied her to forget. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 65 

IV 
Hast thou not seen rose petals curled, 

When half it seemed they knew 
They held insphered the whole round world, 

In every drop of dew ? 

She ? Oh, her heart was the heart of a rose, 

The gold and all were there : 
And the drops of dew she drank — God knows ! 

She was so fatal fair ! 

V 

She died : her waiting women came, 

And whitely shrouded her; 
With gentle praises called her name, 

And softly did bestir 

The clinging hair, which when they drew 

From off her fairest breast. 
Love's mocking tokens, there in view. 

Lay shining and confessed. 

9 



66 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

The circlet gleamed upon her hand, 
Which tenderly they moved : 
" True heart ! " they sighed ; so understand 
The loving the beloved. 

VI 

One bowed above her white headstone — 
His soul with anguish riven, 
" Sweet saint ! she loved me — me alone, 
She will be mine in Heaven ! " 

VII 

One sighed, with blanched lip, underbreath, 
" Yet nothing now debars 
Her soul from mine ; there is no death, — 
She's mine among the stars." 

VIII 

And one through half the empty world 

In very madness tore : 
His storm of grief he reckless hurled 

On fate forevermore. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. f>7 

" Just Heaven," he cried, " her glowing soul 
Love fanned to flame with mine ; 
Shall Death that truest heart control ? 
She's mine — my love divine ! " 

IX 

Pink petals fall — the dew is spilled ; 

The gold heart runs to seed ; 
The soul is mocked, and love is chilled : 

The rose-bush is a weed. 




68 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



SPIRITS IN PRISON. 



I EDGE a lion in his lair , 

Bind him fast with leash and thong ; 
Muscles quiver, eyeballs glare, 

Nerves and thews wax iron strong : 
Mad with fury and despair 

He will rage against his wrong. 

With his bonds and fiery heart. 
Spirit, this is what thou art. 

Cage an eagle, maim his wings, 
Seek to tame his dauntless eye ; 

Teach him songs the linnet sings, 
Tell him to forget the sky; 

Tell him flight brings arrow stings ; — 
He must soar or he will die. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTFIER POEMS. 69 

Beating pinion, eye of flame, 
Spirit, this is thou the same. 

Mark the everlasting sea, 

Watch her mighty heart uplift ; 
O'er her bosom broad and free, 

Fleets may ride and wrecks may drift. 
Aye, storms may rage ; what recketh she ? 

Boundless freedom is her gift. 

" Spirit wait," she murmurs thee, 
" Eternity ! Eternity ! " 




70 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



THE LEGEND OF THE BELL. 



I 

I EAR the ancient town of Raleigh, 
This many and many a day, 
There lies a warm green valley, 
Where the peasant people say 

Once nestled a happy village ; 

In all the country round 
No pasturage nor tillage 

Was goodlier to be found. 

There deep in lush green meadows 
Stood dew-lapped craven cows ; 

And homeward in the shadows, 
Maids blushed at lovers' vows. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 71 

Grandsires retold their stories 

To grandams in the sun, 
Turning the wheel in their glories, 

The while the flax was spun. 

There peace her wing furled lightly, 

" Thank God, and all is well ! " 
Said the old sexton nightly, 
As he rang the curfew bell. 

Till one dark, fateful morning, 

That lowered in lurid gloom, 
An earthquake without warning 

Broke like the day of doom. 

A long low roar as of thunder; 

A near and nearer peal ; 
Hearts beat in fear and wonder, 

The village began to reel. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

The bell rocked up in the steeple, 

It rang at every shock ; 
Cried the startled peasant people 
" The Angelus ! who doth mock ? " 

Quoth one, " It is the sexton, 

Ringing the call to prayer." 
One — two — three — crash ! the next one 

Went up in a great despair. 

II 

Oh, the little children clinging 

To mothers frenzied so ! 
Oh, the dole of that bell ringing, 

Oh, the wailing and the woe ! 

Oh, the rocking and the reeling 

Of the doomed and dizzying walls; 

Oh, the shrieks and mad appealing, 
Oh, the silence that appalls! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 7B 

III 

Engulfed were village and people 

In a terrible yawning lurch; 
Aye, to the very steeple 

Went down out of sight the church. 

All buried there with each other, 

Not one was left to mourn : 
No fond heart from another, 

Nor love from love was torn. 

IV 

Adown the desolate valley 

The sods settled into place ; 
And through that vale near Raleigh 

The grass grew soon apace. 

But the peasant people whisper 

That when the Angelus rings, 
And at the evening vesper 

Are heard mysterious things ; 



74 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

If one shall place uncovered, 
A listening ear to ground, 

A faint bell is discovered 

Ringing with regular sound. 

Mournfully swinging, swinging, 
Dolorous, dim and slow, 

That buried bell is ringing 
The knell of a buried woe. 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 75 



THE ME ADO W BROOK. 



ROAM the green meadow, I lave the lush grasses, 
I hide in the shadow of bank and of fen ; 

My song is the song of the maiden who passes 
A-glancing at Steven who mows with the men. 

I run from her coming, to greet his scythe swinging, 
With musical measure and stroke that is strong ; 

I murmur to him of the rhyme she is singing, 

His cheek turns aye redder at sound of her song. 

And oh, I know not if this giddy girl-rover 

Has a thought more of him than of all other men 

But mowing in meadows with blue skies hung over, 
Will ne'er be the same to young Steven again ! 



76 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



MARAH. 



<J\ 



YEAR ago the moon, as now, 
Crossed the sea with a silver shoe ; 
Along the beach, subdued and slow, 
Dusky figures went, two by two. 



— Two bv two with foreheads bare, 
Half were women, and half were men ; 

Half were gallant and half were fair, — 
Others are here tonight as then. 

Treacherous, all, O passionless beach ? 

Earnest ever, O listening shore ? 
Give your secret nor voice, nor speech, 

Be the sea its winding-sheet evermore ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 77 

Forth from the dazzle, and heat and glare, 

Of thronged halls to the wakeful sea, 
Strains of waltzes haunting th'^ air, 

Floating from window and balcony. 

Tripped the light feet down full fain, 

Out free under the bending sky ; 
We thought you women, we fond blind men, 

We moths, with the fire and pain so nigh ! 

Had we not seen your lips aglow. 

And with what seemed a breath dispart ? 

We thought what shook your jewels so. 
Was the beating of a living heart. 

Were we dazed, demented, that nightly there, 
We dreamed of truth by that solemn sea i 

Once and for only once, how did you dare 

To be other than true to your soul and to me ? 



78 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Two by two along the sands, 

Going tomorrow on separate ways, 

Did half of them v\4alk with both white hands 
On an arm, as yours on mine, and gaze 

Wistfully out on the mystic sea, 

With broken syllables half confessed ? 

Vague words meaning so easily 
All, or nothing, as suits you best. 

Did half of them droop their tender eyes, 
Dewy and dusk, as yours 'neath mine, 

Looking and breathing the sweetest lies. 
Dragging us down to the death, in fine ? 

Down, down, down to the death ! 

Small comfort that others have gone before ! 
Oh, that all stone were void of breath, 

That men might never mistake it more ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 79 

Sparks of rubies, diamonds rare, 

Burned on bosoms with restless fire, 
Under the lovely dishevelled hair, 

Maddening men with a strange desire \ 

Till passionate vows were purely said. 
With a low beseeching for quick replies ; 

But women turn cold when love goes mad, 
And calm, and mute, with a feigned surprise. 

So, did half of them glide away, 

In spirit, out of the others' reach, 
Intangibly as the tide today 

Slid from the arms of the longing beach ! 

If like you, they leant and lingered, 

Crowned with their fortunate diadems, 
Bent low, listening, idle-fingered. 

Snapping the slender jessamine stems, 

Till the brave, brave words had all been spoken, — 
Till every drop of the cup divine 



80 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Was poured ; — till the seal of each heart lay broken, 
Wrenched, and flung at their feet, like mine ! 

Were you and I on the strand, I say, 
But types of all who wandered there ? 

Then half smile on in the sun today, 
And half are cursing the life they bear. 



O lonely sea ! O listening shore ! 

O bending skies, ye are hollow too ! 
And the moon is a wraith forevermore. 

Crossing the sea with a fiery shoe ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 81 



WINE ON THE LEES. 



T SET apart a sacred day and hour, 
And gathered up my friendships unto me ; 
Of all that has been, is, must ever be 
The richest fruitage of life's purple dower. 

As one who holds a draught from Tuscan vine, 
That burns like some strange jewel on the lees. 
That brims, and trembles over, and he sees 

His own heart-beating has o'er-spilled the wine, 

So I my slender flagon holding up 

In Memory's light, as best to mark its glow, 
With quivering sobs erewhile did overflow, 

And mix with falling tears my brimming cup. 

IX 



82 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

For oh, that wine of friendship was distilled 
From life's warm vineyard, sloping to the sun ! 
With richer juices than again will run. 

Oh, her red winepress trodden was, and filled ! 

One spring of youth have we. When that is o'er. 
And summer's fleeting dream, then, dear my friends, 
Our autumn days run on to wintry ends, 

Whose breath is chill. Lo, Age is at the door ! 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



HALF-WAY. 



ATH a very little rift, 

That unnoticed came between 
Our lives, widened till the cleft 

Yawns a black and deep ravine ? 

If the breach so wide expand, 
So the bridge must longer be : 

One on either side we stand ; 
Wilt but stoop half-way to me, 

Over-reaching, hand to hand, 
I will span the gulf with thee ! 



84 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



WORSHIP. 



Tn the midst of the congregation, 

Where the heads were bowed in prayer, 
Mine own was bowed in the silence. 
With the worshipers thronged there. 

The radiant, glittering splendor 

Of the great dome chandeliers 
Broke in a thousand lusters. 

Like a passion that shook with tears. 

"Amen." There stole from the organ 
A whispering symphony. 
With the low breathed words of the chanters. 
Chanting, " Come unto me 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

'All ye that are heavy laden, 

And I will give you rest," 
While a holy hush descended 

Like balm upon every breast. 

When the organ, supplanting the voices. 

Uprose like a swelling tide, 
And swept with resistless rapture 

My heart shore far and wide, 

I felt a thrill as of anguish. 

And tears to my eyelids start, 
While the billows of passionate music 

Broke heavily on my heart. 

I was carried away from the present. 

Back to the vanished past. 
Back to the fair hill country 

Of a youth that fled so fast. 



85 



86 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Instead of the grand cathedral, 
With carven and vaulted dome, 

Its gorgeous gilded fretwork, 
Its sensuous, somber gloom, 

I sat in the homely precincts 

Of an old church far away, 
That was young with its eldest tenants, 

With them it was long grown gray. 

Low roof that a modern steeple 

■ Would look on with disdain ; 
Bare walls and small-paned windows 
That knew no deeper stain 

Than the shadows of firs and beeches. 
With the sunlight filtered through, 

And falling on saintly foreheads. 
Uplift in each high old pew. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 87 

No bell rang out the summons, 

On the sweet, soft, summer air ; 
We knew by the holy stillness. 

That the Sabbath peace was there. 

As along each dusty highway, 

All feet were wont to tend, 
Toward that sacred threshold 

As to a common end. 

And there were friendly greetings, 

With hand-clasps warm and true ; 
And looks of happy lovers. 

Ah, happier than they knew ! 

Uprose the aged preacher, 

With the peace of God on him ; 
And the fresh young men and maidens, 

In the gallery raised the hymn. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

The ancient viol sounded, 

It seemed a heavenly lyre, 
By youth and love surrounded. 

With an aureole of fire- 
Again I saw assembled, 

The dead and living there. 
As erst with their kindly faces. 

Their hushed and reverent air ; 

While out from my heart's recesses, 
Old dreams and old fancies came, 

With the rapturous, turbulent trouble, 
Of illusions too sweet to name. 

Cold distrust was a laggard comer, 
In hearts that were young and true ; 

And life was a long, bright summer. 
And the rose with the myrtle grew. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Oh ! when the last benediction, 
Breathed out in that lofty fane, 

I woke from my dream like a dreamer 
With the pang of a sudden pain. 

The radiant, glittering splendor 

Of the great dome chandeliers 
Broke in a thousand lusters 

Through the glimmering of my tears. 

I felt the sacred chrism 

Of a memory most divine. 
And I knew that nearer Heaven 

No heart had been than mine ! 



89 



90 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



MY LADY, THE SANDS, AND I. 



I!^o, whispering sea, she passed this way ? 

Did she hate your gold with her foot, O sands ? 
Did she spurn your sheen as she spurned today 
My heart ? Did she crush you hard, I say ? 
No more than she did by me, O sands. 

Swept she on in her cold disdain, 

She, a lady with royal grace ? 
Saw you that pity, nor joy nor pain. 
Nor love told over and over again, 

Could soften the look of her splendid face ? 

Aye, that was my lady ; for only she 
Doth wear her hair in a golden crown 

Of thickest braid, right regally ; 

The rest of the wealth of it half to her knee. 
In a shining torrent rippling down. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 91 

Slender her foot, but its print doth keep, 

When many a coarser one is gone ; 
And fine is my lady's scorn, and deep, 
Though under her calmness it lieth asleep, 

It stingeth long after it is withdrawn. 

Yester'en was she graciously pleased to be, 

Heaping you full as her hands could hold ? 
Sifting and sifting you tenderly, 
Did she let the love of the winds of the sea, 
Be in her hair, oh ! never so bold ? 

No less to me than she bent to you. 

As counting us fairly alike, you see ; 
She dallied, and listened, and lingered too, 
And suffered the touch of the falling dew. 

On lips she but hardly denied to me. 

And today she scorns us, my lady, my queen ! 

— She who indulgently through her hands, 
Slipped and sifted us yestere'en, 
Your offence ? You but kissed her foot, I ween ; 

And mine ? — I but loved her, O shining sands ! 



92 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



TO THE END. 



HEAR the loud world's laughter with her noise, 

Behold, and see her moving multitudes, 
With all their blazonry of pompous joys, 

And sorrow 'plaining in low interludes. 
Across the vast gray desert of this life 

Whose trackless waste, on either hand, afar 
Doth stretch its weariness; in eager strife 

They jostle on, whatever may debar. 

In blinding dust, themselves raise as they go, 
The caravan moves on, a monster train 

With sinuous, weary windings trailing slow, 

While lips are parched, and fever burns the brain. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 93 

And some in masses herd for company, 

To stay with common cheer their common heart ; 

While some — aye, God He knoweth some there be, 
Rare, solitary souls, who walk apart, 

And look like gods upon their lonely way. 

These speak no word, nor make they any sign. 
But travel, travel, travel as they may 

Toward the end, with the vast, winding line. 
And some fall down, nor ever rise again. 

Nor ever move — nor utter any sound : 
Still stays not this remorseless, tireless train. 

But onward, onward, on — no rest is found. 

No rest, no rest \ no lingering, no returning. 
No footprint ever points to backward way ; 

No wild regret, nor lip with quenchless burning 
Finds again the spring of any yesterday. 



94 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



VISIONS. 



Designed for Music. 
DREAMED that I — but all, the dream 

Too vain is for the telling ! 
In vain the cooling fountains gleam, 

By broken cisterns welling. 

I dreamed that thou — oh ! that mine eyes, 

The vision' fond confessing, 
Could meet thine own in tender wise, 

And love's wrong find redressing. 

I dreamed that we — O hearts that break, 
Hold fast to love's sweet seeming ; 

For all is false to which ye wake. 
And truth is in your dreaming ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 95 



ASHES OF ROSES. 



F I had known, clear heart, that thou wouldst be 
Struck from my side with half our journey done ; 

That on life's hither path, so lonesomely 

One shadow where were two, should backward run ; 

Could I have known, O friend, at morning time, 
That thou at noon must falter at my side, 

When we the middle heights began to climb. 
And I go down alone through eventide ; 

Had I but known that all I meant to do 
For thy dear sake, must be fore'er undone, 

The love I meant to give, the tender word, the true, 
Close hand-clasp on thine own outreaching one, — 

Oh! I had purchased so much ease of pain. 

And my heart now by so much less were wrung ; 



96 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

My thick, hot tears were falling less like rain, 
And self reproach were dead upon my tongue. 

For I recall, dear one, the days and days 

When silently I walked, thro' o'er much care ; 

Unmindful that one little word of praise 

Thy soul had cheered, and so reacting there. 

Had blessed me back again a thousand-fold ; 

Like sunlight on the dew within a rose, 
Which glad doth offer all its heart can hold 

To enrich the light, and every breeze that blows. 

And I bethink me too, all bitterly, 

How without thought of negligence or wrong, 
I worked for bay leaves by and by for thee, 

So plucked no heart's-ease as we went along. 

And now with ashen lips I here must stand. 
And look in anguish on thy marble face ; 

Grief-stricken that I could misunderstand 

Life's sweetest meaning, which hereon I trace. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 97 

O bosom-drift of snow, O hands that mutely cross, 

O form that like a pale struck lily lies ! 
What joy to count all other gains as loss, 

Could thy sweet spirit now relume thy sweetest eyes ! 

But ah, forever sealed these lids, whereon I press 
My wild late kisses, and these lips are chill, 

Which never more will answer my caress ; — 
Thy heart no pain can pierce, no passion thrill. 

O bitter Death, how bitter thou must be ! 

Thy grasp how strong, how rich thy treasuries ! 
When quivering Life must give her best to thee, 

E'er she can know how sweet her sweetest is ! 



13 



98 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



WITH A ROSE. 



^ 



HiNE eyes, dear heart, with mists of pain are dim ; 
Thy life's gold chalice welleth o'er with bitter care 
For thy lip's anguished pressure on the rim. 

Dear, let me add no drop to thy despair, 
But one sweet thought waft e'er so lightly there — 
A rose leaf on the brim ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



99 



BEAUTIFUL DREAM. 



Designed for Music. 

PEAUTiFUL dream, can I awake 
And from the fond illusion part ? 
Can I the spell of sweetness break 
That now is lying on my heart ? 
Waking from thee is but to weep, 
Bind me, O beautiful dream, asleep ! 

Linger, oh stay in thy beauty with me, 
Hush my heart from its waking pain ; 

Bring back the tenderness that can be 
Mine but in visions of sleep again. 

Wake not my sorrow — linger with me! 

Linger, O beautiful dream, with me ! 



100 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



REST. 



USH ! for a white rose is sleeping, 
Sweet, with dew on her breast ; 

Tender-eyed stars their watch keeping, 
Whisper " God loveth her best — 
So, let her rest ! " 

Softly the Shadow enfoldeth 

Earth, with her vigil begun, 
As on her bosom she holdeth 

Every slumbering one, 

Whose Day is done ! 

Softly ! a white soul is going 
Purely to Heaven confessed ; 

Her own heart-story unknowing, 

Young, with Life's meaning unguessed, 
So, that is best ! 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 101 

Hers not the strife and the fever, 

Hers not the weary brain ; 
Dreams cannot thrill her and leave her 

To waken from bliss that is vain, 
To passionate pain ! 

So, while the white rose is sleeping, 
Sweet, with the dew on her breast, 

Fold these pale hands without weeping, 
Thus, to their infinite rest. 
Lo, this is best ! 




102 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



LOST ART. 



LIFE profound ! thine opening ways 
"(q Lay clear as light is clear to me ! 
But now thy least, thy least of days 
Doth awe me with its mystery. 

Blind, blind thy page is ; — I succumb, 
And wait to know what thou wilt teach 

In wonder ; stricken blind and dumb 
Before the greatness of thy speech. 

For oh, thou hast thy single thread 
So multiplied with myriad strands, 

That none can straightly out be led, 
Or followed back by searching hands. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 103 

And yet, when Hope and I were young, 

No task too hard was for us twain ; 
No lark-song set, no carol sung. 

But we rang out in gay disdain ! 

And we could read — why — once so well. 
No page was sealed in earth's book ! 

Sweet syllables we could outspell. 
From every seaward-running brook. 

That laughing downward joyously. 

Low rippled into rhyme on rhyme ; 
And voiced itself melodiously. 

On every tuneful page of time. 

The woods were chapters ; leaves and vines 
Their paraphrase on spring unrolled ; 

Where flowers enmargined, lit the lines 
With sweet illumings manifold. 

A smiling meadow, sunny sweet, 
Her cowslips holding fair aloft. 



104 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

A summer idyl was ; complete 
With lily couplets, lapsing oft. 

Large questions read we in the sky, 
And mightier answers in the sea \ 

Where untranslated, darkly lie 
God's first great lines of Tragedy. 

Aye, we oft-times could hidden sense 
In Nature's Sanskrit find ; construe 

Old standards to new measurements 
And occult meanings bring to view. 

But we our skill too soon forgot ! 

And, O my soul, that voice benign 
Is drowned in worldly noise, that brought 

To thee Heaven's alphabet divine. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 105 



FORESHADO WING. 



LOOK within thine eyes, 

My little child, 
And see them dark and deep and earnest-clear ; 
They answer widely back in slow surprise, 

At tears which tell my fear, — 
My mother-fear, my sweetest one, for thee, 

That unawake, within that dusky deep, 
May slumbrous fires all unsuspected be, 

And dark, strange phantoms sleep. 

And all my mother-love. 

My little child, 
Yearns over thee, and longs to wrap thee 'round. 
Enfolded safe and warm, my tender dove. 

Within love's shelt'ring bound. 
For thine will be a strong maturity, 
The wakening up, the coming into life 
14 



106 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Of thy young powers, whatever they may be, 
Will bring thee feverish strife. 

Then oh, for thy sweet soul, 

My little child ! 
Could all thy crosses but be mine to bear, 
Could all thy burdens on my shoulders roll, 

Or could I in them share, 
Thrice welcome were such pain and weary load ; 

But ah, thy tender feet must tread alone 
The certain winepress of thy womanhood, 
And I must hear thee moan. 

And I shall see thy face, 

My little child. 
Grow terror-white may be at the coming in 
Of life's flood tide, o'ersweeping all the space 

Where shells and play have been — 
For that, sweet heart, will be the full flood tide, 

When love comes surging o'er youth's sunny sands, 
And drowns out all the letters girlhood tried 
To trace with dreamy hands. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 107 

Oh ! then my heart implores, 
My little child, 
That thou be not on wild, mad breakers thrown, 
But borne on blissful waves to blessed shores, 

Where love dwells with its own. 
If not, though bitterly my hands will wring, 
In keenest anguish which I may not tell, 
E'en mother-love is impotent to bring 

For youth's worst woes a spell. 

So I can only cling, 

My little child, 
All closely while I may to thy dear form ; 
And pray the Father for his sheltering 

In every coming storm. 
Lord, I thee trust. And looking in these eyes, 
I pray Thee that Thou hold within thy hand 
My darling's future, all in tender wise, 

And Thou, — dost understand ! 



108 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



SILENCE. 



W 



HEN two have met, and caught in sudden gleams 
Life's full completeness measured each in each, 
There is no silence evermore ; what seems 
So, verily is the very gold of speech. 



Although thereafter meeting be denied, 

And though a thousand leagues may intervene, 

Thought, arrow-like, all distance shall divide, 
And swift as light unerring speed between. 

Aye, though the loud world's jargon with its din 
May thunder discord in their tortured ears, 

Across the heart-strings, love, once entered in. 
Shall breathe ^olian sweetness all their years. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 109 



DESTINY. 



T CAST a leaf on the flowing tide, 
Writing it first upon either side, 

With lines that compassed a world for me, 
Which way soever ran destiny. 

" Go forth," I murmured, " to meet thy fate, 
Or yon or hither, or soon or late." 

Widely it drifted away, away. 
Through many and many an after day. 

The tide aye flowing, my leaflet fled ; 

I dumbly mourned as we mourn the dead, 

A little moment and then forgot, 
In what I had, what I had not ; 



110 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Till over the waters a stranger came 
Bringing me guerdon too sweet to name. 

" The drift of the tide brought me thy leaf, 
Thy lines of sorrow have touched my grief 

"With healing — pressed in a sacred place 
It is mine and thine by love's good grace." 

Then he opened the book of his heart to me, 
" Behold," he whispered, " 'twas Destiny ! " 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. HI 



MIDSUMMER MORN. 



WONDROUS blue of summer sky, 
A dream of fair, sweet weather ; 

A floating cloud-band airily 
Joined hand in hand together. 

A rippling sea of upland grass, 
By the daisy foam flecked over, 

A fleet of butterflies sailing pass 
To anchor in the clover ; 

A gay flotilla on fairy wing, 

By the summer breeze tossed brightly, 
For the butterfly will is a fickle thing, 

And his fancy changeth lightly. 



112 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

An oriole with happy wing 
Above her nested darlings ; 

In mother-pride all quivering 
To tell her neighbor starlings. 

A leaning wall of willow green, 
A glimpse of shining river, 

A wild-rose hedge — all, all has been 
And will again forever ! 

O summer vision, flushed anew ! 

O morn of fair, sweet weather ! 
Life still is young and love is true, 

And both divine together ! 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 113 



RE VELA TION. 



CANNOT now look forth as once I could, 
Along the opening of my coming years, 

And say unto my heart in joyful mood, 
" Thy best of life is yet to come • " — thick tears 

Are blinding heart and eyes and path, and all 
About is dark with fears. 

I strive to look ahead, — clouds gather fast ; 

I look behind, and see the waning light 
Where Happiness and I each other passed. 

And knew it not until tonight, tonight, 
The lightning of a word, a look, a tone. 

Revealed all in its lisrht. 



15 



114 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

We may not know why God should shut our eyes, 
— Then open them upon some after-day j 

Or why He lets Love pass us in disguise 
And just allows the faint, sweet after-ray 

Of his inverted torch to touch our lives, 
And reach our darkened way. 

We may not know. But in his hand all threads 
He holds secure, nor breaks the frailest one \ 

Earth life He like a subtle pattern spreads. 
And into it He weaves till all is done ; 

Then we shall trace to joyful ends some threads 
We lost when just begun. 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 115 



THY FATE IS SEEKING THEE. 



rnHY fate is seeking thee, 
1 Fear not ! Fear not ! 
Nor hither, thither run, with puny strain 

Of frenzied fingers on this closed door, 
Or that, to find her. Leave thy worse than vain 

And feverish seeking ; fret thy soul no more. 
Nor vex the heavens with ineffectual cries ; 
Fate will adjust her perfect harmonies 
And weave thee in. There is both time and space 
For thy one little thread, it shall have place, 

Though it be gold, or may be dull of hue, 
Or silken smooth — whatever thou hast spun 
Be sure in the great woof shall duly run. 

Not one is lost, however poor to see, 
Or frail soe'er, or coarse or brokenly 



116 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Creep the dull fibers through thy faithless hands, 
They counted are ; the Weaver understands, 
And with a skill and patience all divine. 
He weaveth, weaveth, weaveth thine and mine, 
And every human thread, or short or long, 
Or golden, silvern, serge, or weak or strong : 
Not one is left or lost, or thrown away, 
But finds its own fit pjace some certain day. 

II 

O timorous soul, fear not ! 
Nor stand thou by 
With whitened quivering lip, and tearful eye ; 
Nor anxious question the great master plan ; 
As, how 't will end, or why it this way ran. 
Why crossed that fatal thread entangling thine, 
Confusing destiny's most clear design. 
Or why thine runneth not in parallel 
With this one harmonizing well, so well \ 
Or what mean these strange lines a-gleam of late. 
Vex not thyself with question. Work and wait. 



THE MAGDALEN AMD OTHER POEMS. 117 

The woof is large, thine is a little part, 
Let what thou doest stand for what thou art. 
Spin thy plain thread — 'tis wanted soon or late ; 
No friend will seek thee out so sure as Fate. 
The weft is large ; it looketh dim and dun ; 
Fear not, the Weaver works till set of sun. 
When dawns the light of fair eternity 
The matchless great design revealed will be, 
And it shall answer thee ! 




118 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



MISERERE. 



SKY whose low dark boundary line 

Meets a still darker sea ; 

Between it and this heart of mine 

There rolls unceasingly 

A troubled mystery. 

Dreary, dreary, 

Miserere. 

A heavy sky ; no faintest ray 

Of light, or high or low ; 
No earnest of a brighter day 
Sustains the night. I know 
Some days must finish so. 
Dreary, dreary, 
Miser6re. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 119 

At hand, a-near, the breakers toss, 

And writhe and beat the air ; 
If thou art life, why, then, thy loss, 
O beaten wave, is there 
With wreck and dull despair. 
Dreary, dreary, 
Mis6rere. 

The sea her white locks tears apart 

And looks where dangers wait ; 
While her great storm-begotten heart 
Smites on its rock of fate, 
And breaking moans, " Too late ! " 
Dreary, dreary, 
Misferere. 

O life ! thy troubled mystery 

It singeth in a shell ; 
And all my heart could say of thee 
The sea can say as well ; 
Sages no more can tell. 
Dreary, dreary. 
Miserere. 



120 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 



A STORY OF THE NORTH COAST. 



■>H, but he is my bonny boy ! 
) Broad browed and hazel eyed, 
Oh, but he is my bonny boy ! " 

The hapless mother cried. 
" Ah Heaven ! an' if ye take him now 
To sail upon the sea. 
Ye never will bring back again 
My bonny boy to me ! 

" My goodman and four winsome lads 

The hungry, cruel sea 
Has swallowed up — this is the last. 

Oh spare my boy to me ! " 
" Nay, now, nay, now," the neighbors said, 

As 'round they curious stood ; 
" They'll make the fortune of the lad ; 

They'll make it well and good." 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 121 

They took him there upon the ship, 

The fishwife's only child ; 
And when their sails were set off shore, 

Her brain went utter wild. 
Years fled. The ship to that bleak shore 

Returned when 'round the world 
In many a port and harbor fair 

Her canvas had been furled. 

A gallant captain trod her deck, 

Broad browed and hazel eyed ; 
His fortune made, and with him there 

A haughty Spanish bride. 
His ship well anchored, up the strand 

With eager foot strode he ; 
The fisher-folk in honest guise 

Met him right heartily. 

His rapid gaze quick over-ran 

Their faces every one ; 

" My mother — good folks, where is she .-' 

Hath she forgot her son ? " 
i6 



122 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Each tongue was mute, one spoke at last, 

" Good sir, how will you hear, 
Dame Barbara, she hath gone daft 
This many and many a year. 

" Yon rocky cave she habiteth, 

Our pottage aye we share 
With her — alack ! she be God's poor, 

Though little we've to spare. 
See ! yon she comes, Lord love you, sir. 

Don't take it so to heart ! 
Ye were but a bit laddie — none 

Blame ye, sir, — bear a part ! " 

The daft old fishwife toward the group 

Came crouching o'er the sands ; 
Her sobbing son stepped quickly forth 

And stretched his anguished hands. 
" My mother ! know'st thou not thy son — 

Thy boy ? " She wierdly eyed 
His form, the while her grizzled head 

She shook from side to side. 



THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 123 

Her shrivelled hands she weakly wrung \ 

Oh, it was hard to see ! 
And mumbling muttered, " Nay, my boy 

They bring na mair to me ! 
My bonny, bonny, bonny boy ! — 

Back, back, ye hungry waves ! 
Ye have enough, enough, aha ! 

Ye are too full of graves ! 

" Back, back ! ye had my bonny boys 

An' my goodman, I say ; 
I ha' no more to give, — yes, yes. 

Ye shall have one today." 
Fast clambered she upon the cliff. 

Their palzied eyes before ; 
Wild waved her hands — one piercing shriek, 

A plunge — and all was o'er ! 

Wild swept the winds about the cliff, 

The sea made awful moan ; 
And where the waters held their dead, 

The sea gulls watched alone. 



124 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Still 'round their fires the fisher-folk, 

When nights are dark and wild. 
To huddling children croon the tale, 

Of the fishwife and her child. 
They hear it in the whispering wave 

And in the breakers' roar ; 
While moaning winds about the cliff, 

Bewail it evermore. 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 125 



ON A PICTURE OF THE SEA BREAKING 
ON A DESOLA TE SHORE. 



^ 



OST lonely sea ! Thine awful solitudes 

No sound doth desecrate ; thy mighty tone 

Doth only bear the lapsing interludes 

Of brooding Sorrow, where she maketh moan. 

Oh ! when thou surgest up thy rocky strand 
Thou hast the passion of a thous3.nd lives ; 

Receding, thy low blessing on the sand, 
The wept confession of a thousand shrives. 

Ah, hapless thou ! that makest all in vain 

Thy mad appeal with white arms flung in air ! 

The heart may here breathe out its hidden pain, 
And voiced in thine find speech for all despair. 



126 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

For there no heart is, but hath sometime borne 
Response to thine, most wild and passionate ! 

No life, but sometime it hath inly worn 
To seething whiteness on its rock of fate ! 

O God ! in Thy creation Thou did'st make 

Each new day's work some grace of life express ; 

For gladness, light was fain to overbreak, 

For beauty, there were flowers in plenteousness. 

But when for Infinite Sadness Thou would'st find 
Some form which should its whole expression be, 

And love and woe incarnate there be shrined, 

Thou stretch'dst Thy hand, and lo, the heaving sea ! 




THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 127 



BEFORE THE WEDDING. 



(J\ 



ND SO, my friend, you will garner tomorrow, 

Your ripened fields of waving grain ; 
And you stand tonight, with a touch of sorrow, 

And a sense of loss, and a subtle pain, 
As your gaze for the last time wanders over 

Your season's work : for with the wheat, 
You know that the reaping will discover 

One poor little corn-flower at your feet. 



And just for that sweet, faint blossom lying 
Mute and appealing in its death. 

The color from your strong lip is dying, 
And I read your pain in your bated breath. 



128 THE MAGDALEN AND OTHER POEMS. 

Yet, oh, it must be, — we know, we know it, 
Friend, my friend of the fateful days ; 

But the heart is wise, and will not show it, 
Though a hundred blossoms the sickle graze. 

For the sower must sow, and the dews must nourish. 

And sweet flowers spring in a gay disdain 
Of danger till under the sickle's flourish, 

They fall for the sake of the yellow grain. 
So the sun goes down on a nameless sorrow. 

And I look in your eyes as they scan your wheat ; 
And I read therein that no other tomorrow 

Will dawn from an evening so bitterly sweet. 

While all the great wonder we stand confessing. 
Why flowers need perish when grain must fall ; 

And life is a riddle we die in guessing, 

And toss to our neighbor, — and that is all. 



